


Madness Echoes

by aniraangel (Nashira)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Azkaban Prison, F/M, Gen, Insanity, Jail, Knifeplay, Lovers, Madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-06
Updated: 2006-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nashira/pseuds/aniraangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't know how she had got there; truthfully, she wasn't sure she even cared. It was dark and it was cold, colder then she had ever felt before, like an Arctic winter without the snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness Echoes

She didn't know how she had got there; truthfully, she wasn't sure she even cared. It was dark and it was cold, colder then she had ever felt before, like an arctic winter without the snow. Constant noises echo in a well of madness around her, calling for her, whispering her darkest fears, dark shadows on the walls chanting of friends and foes that had fallen.

Flashes, red flashes and green flashes, screams not of her own body filled her mind. Crimson blood and china dolls broken against mahogany floors, glass doll eyes watching the sacred, deadly dance of the madwoman and her husband whose hands defy the gods. Darkness comes, and screams cease not, for they are her own.

Summer promised, summer gone, chanting it still lingered on, drizzling rain and misty fog covering her skin in a wet envelope. Shivering and sobbing madness is in the air, ballets of the dead sung from their murders hands. She laughed, the dry noise bouncing off brick walls, echoing into the dawn.

Wondering, thinking, and praying, oh indeed. Praying from a heathen, the devils temptress as she laid on the cot, skin whiter then snow, on occasion visitors would say. No one ever came to her, whispered her sweet name, no one saw the darkened eyes, the madness that they screamed. No one but her husband thought of her these days.

Memories haunted her, making her mind her trap, feelings of soft touches, warm caresses and wet, devouring kisses. She remembered pain, the feeling of teeth grazing over her nipple as she writhed beneath the dark haired man, the tightness of ropes as he reminded her she was his, cold steel of a dagger pressed into her throat and the dark dangerous smile, loving she should have realised, that he gave to her with each thrust.

Her mind drifted, wandered and day turning into night and night to day, weeks became months, months melted into years and occasionally, every so often there was a flash of silver blond hair. It was a woman, she thought, with long blond hair tied back, stifled tears and silence, and she thought it was just another trick of the light, she ignored it.

Barking, she heard barking at her cell door, laughing madly her eyes darted to the noise and she rose on unsteady legs, moving slowly towards the door before collapsing against it. The dog growled and marked her door before leaving and she laughed still, Bellatrix was almost gone.


End file.
